


Class Consciousness

by GeneralWayne



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-10-25 09:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20721716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralWayne/pseuds/GeneralWayne
Summary: "A tense silence had descended upon the pair. Anna rubbed her left hand where Phryne had lent her a small silver band. It was so unlike her real wedding ring, the one from her very real, and very failed, marriage.This silver band, on the other hand, was part of a sham. A ruse meant to put off her attackers. In this guise, she wasn’t heir to an ancient lineage tracing back to the finest houses of France.No, instead she was Sarah. A maid, married to a taxi driver.And not just a taxi driver, Anna thought to herself, falling deeper into despair. A Communist taxi driver."---Bert-centric angsty fluff, as silly as it sounds.





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I've just finished binging Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries on Netflix, and I'm so glad I discovered this incredible series! While we wait for the movie I've thought up this little romance for our dear friend Bert with a new character. It's a little bit cotton candy fluff, a little bit romantic angst, with the remainder yet to be determined. Thanks for reading! New chapters coming soon.

Bert stomped down the street, a cigarette clenched between his teeth. He was on assignment for Miss Fisher, driving the taxi he shared with Cec down to the docks to pick up one of the Honorable Miss Fisher’s friends. 

Miss Fisher’s friends were often colorful, but Bert was in no mood for adventure. He and Cec had gotten in a row about who’d take the assignment. Cec had something planned for Alice, he’d said. He was set to surprise her with a long trip seaside, away from the city. Bert cared enough about his friend to relent and take the job instead. 

He was grateful any business for the taxi, of course. Miss Fisher had left for England several months before to ensure the safe return of her father to the continent. That Jack Robinson hadn’t been far behind her. But after nearly a year, they’d both returned to Melbourne, finally in the open about their infatuation with each other. 

The thought of the Detective Inspector and the boss lady brought his mind back to Cec and Alice. His expression darkened, and he shook his head. His was a sorry lot, he thought to himself, working while everyone else was off enjoying themselves.

“Some working class solidarity,” Bert mumbled to himself as he hopped up into the cab and motored down to the dock. 

As he arrived at the water, he saw the large luxury steamer pulling away. A line of cars were picking up their guests from under a large tent. Bert pulled in line behind the last car and waited his turn. He was running late, but hoped that Miss Fisher’s guest was accommodating as the honorable lady herself. 

Approaching the red carpet, Bert parked the car and jumped out. Turning to one of the attendants, he smiled and tipped his hat. “I’m here for Miss Anna Vanderbilt.” 

The butler looked at him nervously. “Yes,” he said, “I’ll go and fetch her--” 

“--no need,” shouted a strident voice from inside the tent. A woman emerged, dressed in elegant traveling clothes and with striking features hidden behind a large pair of dark shades. Without even looking at Bert, she waved to the three valets struggling to carry her luggage. “I spied your taxi approaching. Miss Fisher gave me the description. Hopefully your car can accomodate my luggage.” 

She opened the door to the taxi herself and hopped in the back, closing it firmly behind her. 

Bert went to help the valets store the luggage in the boot of the car. 

Lordy, Bert thought. Cec would owe him after this. 

\---

There in the back of the bouncing taxi, Miss Anna Vanderbuilt, only daughter of the Viscount of the Colville of Culcross, was still impossibly seasick. She'd just spent three weeks on a miserable yacht and an even more miserable three weeks before that in the aftermath of her wedding. 

The taxi careened along the cobblestone streets of Melbourne, further adding to her upset stomach. 

“You here for business or pleasure Miss?” asked the taxi driver.

Anna ignored the question, intending the driver to take the hint and leave her alone with her thoughts. Here she was, in exile to the other side of the world, in desperate hope that her new friend could help her. She’d only met Miss FIsher fairly recently, but it had been a memorable meeting. She had been able to provide shelter for Miss Fisher and her companion Jack Robinson in the midst of an adventure in London. 

She hoped that Miss Fisher would be able to solve her problem as adeptly as she had the caper in London. 

“Miss,” came the voice again, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you here for business or pleasure?” 

Anna looked to see blue eyes staring at her in the mirror. There was a challenge in his voice, as if he was displeased with the dismissal of his question. 

“Is it normal in the Antipodes for taxi drivers to interrogate their customers?” she asked crisply. 

The blue eyes in the rear view mirror darkened and turned back to the road. 

“Just tryin’ to make conversation, Miss. Makes the drive shorter.” 

“I doubt that,” Anna said, sighing. She closed her eyes and tried to quell the ceaseless rocking that had plagued her mind since she left England.

\---

If Bert was honest with himself, he could have stopped the car a bit more gently than he did. With a quick stop his passenger yelped awake, and Bert hopped out of the car to help her down. 

His passenger brushed his hand away and lowered herself carefully. “Thank you,” she said, “but I’d prefer to manage on my own.” 

“Suit yourself,” Bert said, stomping around to retrieve his passenger’s luggage. 

Mr. Butler appeared at the end of the driveway to greet Miss Vanderbuilt. He whisked her inside, leaving Bert to struggle with the bags. 

Having brought in all the luggage, Bert went ‘round the back to grab a quick cup of tea from the kitchen. Stepping in the back door, he was grateful to see that Dot had left out a plate of scones with the tea. 

Helping himself, he sat down at the table. Taking the first bite of the sweet treat, he was sure that they day would turn around. 

He didn’t notice when one of the bags he'd just hauled in started smoking. 

\--

Anna sat in the parlor, nursing a strong drink offered by her friend Phyrne. 

“That’s just absolutely awful,” Phryne murmured. “How long had you known him?” 

“Over a year,” Anna said. “I knew of him socially, but had never met him personally. He said had been abroad for the last few years, working on various charity causes. Phryne, it was such a whirlwind romance. I’d never met anyone like him before--he was thrilling.” 

Phryne nodded slightly, understanding all too well. “And so he proposed.” 

Anna nodded. “I was so happy,” she said. “He didn’t even care about my inheritance. Whenever I brought it up, he’d just dismiss it. ‘I only care for you,’ he’d say.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “How could I have been such a fool Phryne?”

“Love has a way of making us blind,” Phryne said gently. “And it happens to the best of us.” 

“He left me, three weeks after the wedding,” Anna continued. “The next I heard from him, it was through a solicitor! He claimed I had defrauded him of thousands of pounds in the run-up to the wedding and that it was only fair that he be compensated.” 

Phryne frowned. “How tasteless.” 

Anna nodded. “But that’s not all. These past few weeks, there’s been more than one attempt on my life. At first, I thought I was going mad--but now I’m quite sure. That’s why I booked passage to Australia. I did the arrangements myself, paying for my tickets under an assumed name.” 

“And where are you staying?” Phryne asked. 

“At the Fairmont,” Anna said. 

“Well that won’t do,” Phryne said. “You must stay here with me! Bert hasn’t even taken your bags to the hotel yet.” 

Just then, a loud explosion rocked the sitting room. A soot-darkened Bert emerged from the kitchen. 

“That woman’s bloody baggage!” he shouted. “It had a bomb!” 

\--

Bert wasn’t having a good day. 

He’d picked up Miss Fisher’s rude (and even worse, bourgeoise) guest. And then, after sitting down to a scone and a cup of tea, he’d been in the path of a smoke bomb. 

Bert had managed to throw the smoking suitcase outside, but not before he’d gotten a face full of soot and singed clothing. 

Staggering into the parlor, he shouted out a warning. 

Phryne rushed to his aid. “Bert!” She exclaimed. 

In the next moment, a large bang shook the room. 

“Thank goodness you were in the kitchen,” Phryne said. “Who knows how much damage it would have done inside?” 

Bert saw Miss Fisher’s unpleasant guest collapse onto the nearest chair. 

“It’s just as I’ve told you Phryne!” she wailed. Miss Fisher, not one to shirk from danger, comforted her guest. 

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Miss Fisher said. Bert had worked for the honorable lady long enough to see the excitement in her eyes. “I’ll phone Jack, he’s down at the station.” 

“In the meantime,” Miss Fisher said, “it’s obvious that whomever is after you knows you’re in Australia.” She looked at Bert, who felt a growing sense of dread.

It looked like the day was going to be longer than anticipated. 

“Albert, since you so ably deflected the first attack, would you mind staying with Miss Vanderbiilt while I phone Jack?” 

Albert nodded reluctantly. He wasn’t one to shirk from duty, but this particular duty didn’t make it easy. “Of course, Miss.” 

Miss Fisher went to the telephone to ring Jack while Bert and Miss Vanderbiilt waited in stony silence. Bert wasn’t about to try and speak to her again. 

“I’m sorry about your clothing,” Miss Vanderbiilt said, breaking the silence. “I can pay to have it cleaned for you.” 

Bert shook his head. “No need for charity,” he said. “Those old rags’ll wash up just fine.” 

The woman looked down, and an awkward silence fell over the pair again. She’d be pretty, Bert thought, if not for her high-and-mighty demeanor. 

Bert felt compelled to try conversation once more, but before he thought of something to say, Miss Fisher re-entered the room. 

“Jack’s on his way,” Miss Fisher said. Turning to her friend, she took her hand. “Anna, we’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you.” 

Bert noticed that the other woman had paled considerably. “I hope so,” she said. “If it’s Andrew, I don’t know what I’ll do. I thought he was just after money--not my life!”


	2. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna faces an attacker. Miss Fisher comes up with a plan.

A few hours later, Jack, Phryne, and Anna sat in the parlor once again. “We’ve sent what we could find of the bomb off to the lab, and we’re waiting on the results,” Jack said. “We’ve also questioned everyone we could find on the docks, but many of workers had already disappeared.” 

“I can’t understand how they found out I’m here,” Anna said. “I was absolutely discreet in my arrangements to travel.” 

“I’ve obtained a copy of the passenger manifest,” Jack said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. “Do any of the names on here look familiar to you?” 

Anna took the paper and scanned it hurriedly. “No,” she said. “Not a one.” 

“Then it’s possible that whoever is intent on your harm followed you to Australia under an assumed name, or, they’ve paid someone to come after you,” Jack said. 

“Either way,” Phryne said reassuringly, “you’ll be safe here.” 

The assembled group soon said their good nights and retired to bed. Anna sunk into the sheets and tried to put the day’s events out of her mind. 

All hopes of sleep were long lost, so Anna tried her best to quiet her thoughts and relish the peace of the dark. A peal of thunder broke the stillness of the night, and Anna wondered what she’d done to deserve such luck. In the next moment, she could hear the heavens open and a downpour begin. 

The rain and thunder continued unabated, and Anna finally found herself tired enough to sleep. An especially loud crash sounded outside her window, and in a hazy slumber, Anna wondered whether a tree branch had fallen onto the roof. 

A second loud crash and a spray of broken glass pulled her violently awake. Anna looked up to see a dark figure, face obscured, climbing in the window. Anna screamed and jumped up from the bed. The masked figure struggled and slipped on the wet roof tiles. Petrified with fear, Anna screamed again. 

Mr. Butler burst through the door holding a cricket bat, with Jack and Phryne following right after. Mr. Butler struck the figure, who released his grip on the window frame and scrambled back out of sight. 

“Jack,” Phryne exclaimed, “we’ve got to catch him!” Without a word, Jack started down the stairs in an attempt to head the attacker off as they escaped down the street. 

Minutes later, Jack returned to the house, drenched and empty-handed. 

The occupants of the house gathered in the early light of dawn to discuss what happened. 

“I found something,” Mr. Butler said, holding up a rock wrapped in a paper, tied with string. 

“A warning,” Phryne said. She took the rock from Mr. Butler, deftly untied the knot, and examined the paper. “The rich get richer and the poor get poorer--Down with the House of Vanderbuilt,” Phryne read. “Curious.” 

Anna felt faint. It was the second attempt on her life--just in that very day. 

“Phryne, I shouldn’t have troubled you,” she said. “Now you’re involved with this mess.” 

“Oh Anna,” Phryne said. “It’s danger that makes life fun! And, besides, I could never repay you for your kindness when Jack and I were in a jam.” 

“It was nothing,” Anna said. 

Phryne smiled, then returned her gaze to the note. “This message has revolutionary tendencies. Perhaps we should ask our experts if he knows who might have done this.” 

Anna frowned. “Phryne,” she said. “Surely you don’t associate with anyone who would--” 

“But of course,” Phryne said, her tone light and airy. "And what's better," Phryne said, "you've already met him!" 

Anna frowned. "I don't remember meeting anyone yesterday." 

Jack shook his head ruefully. "It'll come to you," he said. "He's hard to forget." 

\--

Bert arrived at Miss Fisher’s house in the late morning. Upon walking in the back door, he knew something was amiss. 

Miss Fisher answered the front door herself and ushered Bert into the drawing room where Jack and Miss Vanderbuilt sat. Looking around, he could tell it had been a late night. 

“I came as soon as I could Miss,” Bert said. “Everything all right?” He asked. 

“Unfortunately no,” Miss Fisher said. “We had a late night visitor. He tried to climb in our guest room window and gave Anna a terrible shock.” 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bert said. He looked over at Miss Vanderbuilt. She looked small and pale. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman who had terrorized the staff at the dock only yesterday 

“Our would-be attacker left us a note," Miss Fisher said, holding up a piece of paper. "It appears that they may have traveled in socialist circles." 

“Now miss,” Bert said with fight in his voice. “I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with--” 

“Of course not Bert,” Miss Fisher said soothingly. “But perhaps you’re familiar with the phrase, or the handwriting.” 

Bert took the note and scrutinized it carefully. “No,” he said. “Don’t reckon that looks like anything familiar.” 

Miss Fisher nodded. “I supposed not. So we don’t have any knowledge of a motive, past a possible prejudice against the moneyed class.” 

“Phryne,” Anna said, suddenly standing up. “I can’t put you in danger anymore. I just won’t do it.” 

“I’ve faced much worse, I promise,” Miss Fisher said. “But you are right--your attacker must have known that you’re at my abode.” 

“We need to hide you,” Jack said. “And hope that the attackers will think you’ve fled the country.” 

Anna nodded. 

“But where to go?” Phryne said. “We can’t hide you at any of my aunt’s properties, it would be too obvious.” 

“It has to be somewhere that the attackers would never think to look,” Jack said. 

Phryne glanced towards Bert, who returned a blank stare. He saw the wheels turning in Miss Fisher’s head, but couldn’t divine her thoughts. 

“Hiding in plain sight,” Miss Fisher said. “Bert,” she said slowly, “didn’t you say you’d just moved out of the boarding house and into your own bungalow?” 

Bert fidgeted with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. “It’s not much, Miss Fisher, but it’s a sight better than my old room. And with the taxi business doing so well--” 

“--well that’s it!” Phryne said turning to her friend. “We’ll hide you with the person least likely to harbor a capitalist.” 

Bert turned bright red and sputtered. “Miss Fisher, I hardly think it’s appropriate--” 

“--yes, Phryne, I must protest,” Anna said, “I’m sure I can find better accommodations--”

Bert spun to take offense at Miss Vanderbuilt. “It may not be the kind of _ accommodations _you’re used to,” he said. “But I worked hard for that home and I’m proud of it.” 

Miss Vanderbuilt, who once seemed small and frail, stood up to her full height. “I’m surprised that you’d even opt for a piece of private property, given your inclinations,” she said. 

Bert took a step closer and took a deep breath, ready to meet invective with invective, when Miss Fisher intervened. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s not forget that in the past day we’ve had not one, but two attempts on Anna’s life.” 

The would-be antagonists both took a step back. 

“And Bert, if this does implicate any of your compatriots,” Miss Fisher said gently, “it puts all of you at risk.” 

Miss Fisher’s reason soothed both offended parties, and Bert felt his anger dissipate. “I could set up a cot in the front room for myself,” he said. 

“It would only need to be for a short time,” Phryne said. “Long enough for us to set a trap and draw out Anna's enemies.” 

“But what will I tell my neighbors?” Bert said. “I’ve just moved there. I don’t want the reputation--” 

“--of course not,” Miss Fisher said. “I’ve thought of everything, trust me!” 

Bert frowned. He knew this wouldn’t end well. 

He looked over at Miss Vanderbuilt, whose morose features mirrored his own. 

No, this wouldn’t end well at all. 

\--

Anna pulled on the rough fabric of the maid’s dress that Phryne’s staff had lent her. She brushed her freshly-dyed hair forward to obscure her face. 

“Easy does it,” Bert said. “If somebody’s watching, they won’t be able to recognize ya in that get up.” 

Anna frowned. “I don’t recognize myself.” 

When they approached the taxi, she automatically reached for the back door. 

“Sorry Miss,” Bert said. “You’ll probably want to sit in the front, to avoid suspicion.” 

Anna felt her face fall. So, this was it. Relegated to hiding as a maid, and trapped with a ruffian in a taxi. 

“Of course,” she said, her voice clipped. 

Once again without help, she pulled herself into the cab. Albert climbed in behind her. 

A tense silence had descended upon the pair. Anna rubbed her left hand where Phryne had lent her a small silver band. It was so unlike her real wedding ring, the one from her very real, and very failed, marriage.

This band, on the other hand, was part of a sham. A ruse meant to put off her attackers. In this guise, she wasn’t heir to an ancient lineage tracing back to the finest houses of France.

No, instead she was Sarah. A maid, married to a taxi driver. 

And not just a taxi driver, Anna thought to herself, falling deeper into despair. A Communist taxi driver. 

She looked over at Albert, whose hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. There on his left hand was a simple ring, to ensure that the ruse was complete. He had protested, claiming that men in his family didn’t wear wedding rings. But Miss Fisher had insisted, appealing to his belief in egalitarian societies. 

They motored across town, and Anna watched as the quality of the houses slowly turned from the elegant Victorians of Phryne’s neighborhood to the working-class bungalows where Bert lived. 

Soon enough, they came to stop in front of a small house with grey siding. 

“We’re here,” Albert said quietly, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll get your bag.”


	3. A place to stay

Bert pulled up in front of his modest bungalow, a small and sturdy structure on a street lined with similar homes. On the ride over, he wondered whether he’d let Miss Fisher’s powers of persuasion work a little too far this time. Silently, he cursed at Cec for still being away on holiday. Cec was the level-headed one, Bert thought to himself. He would’ve been able to tell Bert if this was a good idea or not. 

After placing the taxi in park, Bert murmured to his guest and pulled the single suitcase out of the back seat. In the meantime, Miss Vanderbuilt had jumped down from the carriage and was busy re-arranging her skirt. 

Bert looked up at the house in front of him. It wasn’t much, but it was his. He’d been working so much that he hadn’t had time to take care of things the way he wanted. In that moment, every glaring defect that he’d planned to fix stood out as if long overdue. 

There would have been plenty of time, Bert thought ruefully, but for this impossible scheme. Miss Fisher said it wouldn't be more than a few weeks at most, he'd reminded himself. There would be time.

He turned to look at his new house guest. He could see her appraising the bungalow. A slight frown creased her forehead. 

“Sorry it’s not up to your standards,” he said gruffly. 

Miss Vanderbuilt was silent, which only added to Bert’s growing sense of shame. He huffed ahead of her, carrying her bag, when a voice rang out from the yard next to his. 

“Is that Bert?” An old woman shouted from where she was hanging washing in the yard. 

Bert groaned internally. It was his new neighbor, the nosy parker from next door. He thought briefly about pretending like he didn’t hear her, but Miss Vanderbuilt turned to wave. Bert winced internally and remembered Miss Fisher’s parting words. 

_ Showtime. _

“Miss Wilson!” he shouted, grabbing Miss Vanderbuilt with his free hand and dragging her over. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Sarah Johnson.” 

Bert held his breath and looked over at Miss Vanderbuilt to see if she’d put into action that plan they had agreed to at Miss Fisher’s. 

Miss Vanderbuilt smiled and extended her hand. “Miss Wilson, it’s lovely to meet you.” 

“An English bride!” exclaimed Miss Wilson. 

“Ah yes,” Bert said, the gears in his mind working overtime to create a backstory for the couple. “We’d met each other after the war and kept in contact all these years. I finally had to ask.” 

“We got married overseas,” Miss Vanderbuilt added, placing a hand convincingly on Bert’s chest. 

She was good, Bert thought. He looked down briefly at her hand. 

“Well, you’ll have to come over for dinner tomorrow!” Miss Wilson exclaimed. “We must celebrate the newlyweds!” And just as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared once again, presumably off to plan the meal. 

Bert had mustered up a smile, but once he turned back towards the house, his face fell. He genuinely liked Miss Wilson, and he knew she was truly happy for him. It made him feel terrible to think he was deceiving her. 

They hadn’t even made it in the door, and already all signs pointed to this being a very, very bad idea. He looked over at Miss Vanderbuilt, who seemed lost in thought along the same lines. 

Together they reached the front door, which Bert opened with a key. 

“Carry her over the threshold Bert!” shouted a voice from across the street. Bert looked to see his neighbor Bill waving. “I just heard from Miss Wilson, congratulations!” 

Bert wanted to disappear into the ground. Telling Miss Wilson was inevitable, but in doing so, he’d also told everyone in the neighborhood. 

He looked at Miss Vanderbuilt, who eyed him warily. “You can’t be serious,” she said. 

“Only the best for my bride,” Bert said. He dropped her bag and swept his new house guest off her feet.

He kicked the door open with his foot and carried her inside. 

\---

Anna jumped out of his arms as soon as the door was closed, and surveyed the dusty, barren living room in which she’d been deposited. 

“I’ll take your bag to the bedroom,” Bert said. “I’ve got an old cot from war surplus I’ll set up out here.” 

Anna looked around. A small kitchen lay at one end of the room, which doubled as a dining and entertaining area. Walking around the space, she saw a doorway to the bedroom and washroom. 

Bert seemed on edge, and Anna felt the same coiled energy. Two wooden chairs sat next to a small table. There was no other furniture in the front room.

“I didn’t move in long ago,” Bert said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I have plans for the place of course--going to paint, get a bit more furniture.” 

Anna nodded. She could sense Bert’s embarrassment, and despite her dislike of the man, she didn’t want to make him feel any worse than it appeared he already did. 

“It seems there’s a great deal of potential,” Anna said gently. She saw Bert visibly soften, and she found herself relaxing in return. 

“I’m sorry there’s not another place to sit,” Bert said, pulling out one of the chairs for her. “It’s a bit of a bachelor’s paradise.” 

“It will be fine,” Anna said. In the next moment her stomach rumbled, loud enough for Bert to hear. 

Bert cleared his throat. “Miss Fisher sent some baked goods with us, I can fetch them from the taxi--” 

And with that, he ran out the door. He returned quickly, his arms laden with supplies. 

“Miss Fisher wanted to make sure you wouldn’t go hungry,” he said, “which is good, because there’s not much around these parts other than tinned kippers.” 

Together they sat out a small dinner of baked goods that Dot had prepared. The sun had set, and Bert turned on the single electric lamp that sat on the table. 

The lamp cast a warm, small circle of light that made the dinner unexpectedly intimate. With no wireless or record player, the pair found themselves in silence, save for the sounds of the crickets outside and the neighbors passing by. Anna found herself hungry, and seized upon a fresh loaf of bread. Belatedly, she realized she hadn’t been able to keep down a full meal for several weeks. 

“Always nice to see a woman with a healthy appetite,” Bert said. Anna looked up, shocked. Bert’s face immediately turned to regret. 

“I’m sorry Miss, that’s not what I--”

“It’s fine, Mr. Johnson,” Anna said. “It’s true, I haven’t eaten well in several weeks. Sea travel does not agree with me. But I am feeling better now, and Dot is an excellent cook.” 

Bert looked relieved, and picked up another sandwich. They continued on eating for a few more minutes before Anna pushed away from the small table. 

“I think I’ll retire early tonight,” she said. 

“Of course,” Bert said. “Mr. Butler stopped by earlier and brought new sheets for the bed.” 

“I’ll have to thank him,” Anna said, standing up. 

Bert cleared the remnants of the meal and placed the leftovers back in the basket that Dot lent them. 

Anna stood and went back to the bedroom, looking back to see Bert return to one of the chairs, light a cigarette, and pick up a newspaper that lay discarded on the floor next to the chair. Looking over the top of the paper, he nodded at her silently. Anna turned and went to the back room. 

She closed the door behind her and looked around her new quarters. Like the front room, they were spare. A small, single bed sat pushed up against the corner. A small chest was the only addition to the bed. Anna walked over to the dresser and traced her finger though a layer of dust that had settled on the surface. There in the dust was a picture of a woman. She was young and beautiful. Looking back at the door and not hearing any movement, Anna turned and picked up the picture. Turning it over, she saw an inscription written in Cyrillic that she could could not read. Below that, written in English, were the words "thank you." 

Anna sat the picture back down. There was a story there, Anna realized. Given the absence of any woman in the home, Anna wondered whether it was an unhappy tale. She changed into her pajamas and climbed into the small, creaky bed. 

She could hear Bert shuffling around in the front room, setting up the cot. She thought more about the man, so strange and wary around her. He treated her as if she was a live wire, Anna thought to herself. She shook her head. _Nonsense_, she thought. As if he had anything to fear from her--she was the one in danger. 

A few moments later, the light under the door was extinguished. 

And yet that very thought reminded her that Bert had opened his home to her when she was in danger. He didn’t know her from Adam, but he’d stepped up to help with nobody else was able. Anna frowned. Still, she thought to herself, he was by far the most unpleasant Good Samaritan she had ever encountered.

As her mind raced, exhaustion fell heavy on her heart. She sunk even deeper into the bed. 

As she drifted off to sleep, she realized that the ceaseless rocking had finally stopped.


	4. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bert and Anna spend some time with his neighbors.

Bert often bragged that he could sleep just about anywhere, so he shrugged off the aches and pains from sleeping on the cot and tried to tell himself that he'd slept well. Despite his best mental efforts, his body told him otherwise. He was exhausted. An English aristocrat out of the top drawer was hiding out in his unfinished bungalow, and it was his job to keep her safe while Miss Fisher figured out a way to draw out her attacker. 

Cec was bound to return from his holiday in a few weeks, and Bert winced at the thought of how to explain this situation to his best friend. He walked over to the kitchen counter and pulled a muffin out of the basket from Dot. He lit the stove and put the kettle on to make himself a cup of tea. He tried to settle his thoughts by going through his morning routine. A cup of tea, a muffin and a smoke would set things right, he thought to himself. 

Just then, Miss Vanderbuilt walked into the kitchen. Any sense of normalcy was shattered. Her presence made Bert realize just how solitary his life was before her arrival. 

“Good morning,” Miss Vanderbuilt said quietly. 

“G’Monring Miss,” Bert said. He could tell she was tense. He was tense too. The bungalow felt far too small. 

Bert was tounge-tied. He wasn’t one for small talk on a good day, let alone a situation like this. He looked from the kettle over to Miss Vanderbuilt. 

“I’ve got work to do today,” Bert said. “So I’ll be out for most of the day.” 

Miss Vanderbuilt nodded. 

“There’s still plenty left from yesterday,” Bert said, gesturing at the basket of provisions. “And I can go to the market later if you need anything--” 

“--I’ll be just fine,” Miss Vanderbuilt said.

Bert nodded. “Alright then,” he said. He grabbed his overcoat and hat and bolted out the door, leaving the muffin half-eaten on the counter.

Once safely outside, Bert climbed up into the taxi and took a steadying breath. It’d be fine, he thought to himself. He just needed to keep busy, and the time would pass before he knew it. 

\--

After Bert’s abrupt departure, Anna was left alone with her thoughts. The kettle that Bert had put on had begun to whistle, so she took it off the heat. Opening the cupboards, she managed to track down a mug and the teabox. She made herself a cup and sat down at the table. 

Grateful for the familiarity of a pastry and a cup of tea, Anna tried to collect her thoughts. She hadn’t brought any books, and the thought of sitting alone with her thoughts was unbearable. 

She looked through the window and saw the taxi pull away. Turning her attention back to the room, she appraised her surroundings once more. The room was sparse, even more so in the morning light. 

Anna spied a box in the corner of the room that she hadn’t noticed before. Curious, she walked over and opened the lid. In the box were two large buckets of paint and a brush. She picked up one of the buckets and looked at the label. It was wall paint. 

Looking around the unfinished room once more, Anna realized that Bert’s embarrassment stemmed in part from his unfinished plans. 

Anna frowned and picked up the paint brush, running her fingers through the bristles. She had meant what she said last night, about the potential of the space. But maybe, she thought, she hadn’t realized the import of her words. 

There _ was _ potential in the space, Anna thought to herself. A great deal of potential. She looked down at her dress. It could be replaced, if necessary. She turned over the paint brush once more. This would give her hands something to do so that her mind would be quiet. 

She picked up the paint bucket with her other hand.

\---

It was the end of a long day of driving, and Bert was exhausted. The impending thought of returning home to deal with Miss Vanderbuilt served only to tire him even more. Bert parked the taxi outside the bungalow. He walked up to his front door with a heavy heart. As he was about to put the key in the door, he realized that the front windows to his home were wide open. 

_ Intruders_, he thought with alarm. He burst through the front door and shouted for Miss Vanderbuilt. 

Bert froze for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the interior light. He saw her standing on a chair in the corner of the room, a paint brush in her hand. 

He blinked again, and in the next moment realized something was different in his home. 

“The paint,” Bert said, “you--”

“--I hope it’s alright,” Miss Vanderbuilt said, stepping off the chair. “I just couldn’t bear to stay here all day with just my thoughts--” 

Bert looked around. She’d painted the front half of his home, save for one court. 

“It’s fine,” Bert said. “Better than fine! I just didn’t expect that you’d--”

“Oh, I used an old sheet I found in the closet for the floors,” Miss Vanderbuilt said, gesturing at the sheet on the ground. “And I’m quite good at painting, I took classes for years.” 

“It shows,” Bert said with wonder in his voice. It looked even better than he imagined. “It’s like a whole new bloody house!”

For the first time in their time together, Miss Vanderbuilt smiled. It seemed to Bert as if she was a different person. If he'd allowed the thought, he might have even considered her beautiful. 

“I must admit, the smell was a bit more than I anticipated,” Miss Vanderbuilt said, pulling Bert away from dangerous thoughts. “So I opened the windows.” 

As if on cue, Miss Wilson appeared in the open front window. “Dinner’s nearly ready!” she exclaimed. “You two get over here!” 

Ducking her head further in the window, she admired the new look to the interior. “This is lovely,” she said. “It’s much better than that dreary grey from before!” 

Bert felt a swell of pride in his chest. He and Cec had quibbled over the color, but Bert had gone with his gut and picked the light blue. “Thank you Miss Wilson,” he said. “We’ve got just a spot to finish and we’ll be right over.”

Miss Wilson nodded and retreated back into her own window. Bert looked over at Miss Vanderbuilt. 

“Miss Vanderbuilt,” Bert said. “You’ve really outdone yourself. I never would have thought a silver-tail like yourself would take it upon herself--” He trailed off when he saw his house guest frown. 

“Albert, it’s really not necessary to act as if I’m helpless,” Miss Vanderbuilt said, her hands on her hips. “You obviously bought the paint to redecorate your new home, and it was a welcome distraction from my current state of affairs. Now, you told Miss Wilson we’d be over right as soon as we finished the room. I’ll admit that I’m quite tired. So if you wouldn’t mind,” she said, handing the brush and bucket to him. “I’d like if you saw this project through while I get ready for dinner.” 

Bert took the brush wordlessly, confused by the determination in her eyes. He looked at the final corner, still dingy and grey. 

“Might as well finish it off,” he said. 

“Yes,” Miss Vanderbuilt said. “I’ll go wash up. Whatever Miss Wilson is cooking smells delicious.” 

Bert was left alone, painting a corner in his own house. He dabbed paint into the corner, finding comfort in the familiar routine. He knew how to paint a room. 

Part of him felt ashamed. That box with paint and brush had been sitting in the corner for weeks. He was always just about to get started when something else would come up. And now, it was nearly done, thanks to this standoffish, haughty woman. Bert shook his head. He turned around to see Anna had returned from freshening up. Bert added the last bit of paint in the corner. 

Together, they stood and admired the room. For a long moment, neither person spoke. 

“We should get going,” Miss Vanderbuilt said quietly, “I hate to be late and we need to stop by the market first.” 

Bert nodded and grabbed his hat. He held the door for Miss Vanderbuilt. Bert took one last look at the home before locking the door behind them. 

\--

Anna insisted on a detour to the market so that they wouldn't show up empty-handed at Miss Wilson’s. Having obtained an apple pie, they returned to greet their host, who ushered them into the house.

It was mid-May, and the walk to the market had chilled Anna to the core. Anna appreciated the way Miss Wilson’s house enveloped them in warmth and light. 

She watched with bemusement as Miss Wilson fussed over Bert. For his part, Bert visibly reddened when he caught Anna’s smile. 

“I’m just so happy you dear Bert,” Miss Wilson said. “Please, come into the dining room. I’ve set out a few things while I finish up dinner.” 

“Do you need some help?” Anna asked. “I can’t say I’m the best cook, but I take direction well.” 

Miss Wilson smiled. “Yes, that would be lovely!” She gently guided Bert in the direction of Mister Wilson, who stood in the other corner of the room talking to Bert’s other neighbor, Bill. “You go entertain those two, and we’ll be ready before you know it.” 

Anna followed Miss Wilson into the kitchen, and true to her word, she took Miss Wilson’s direction well. Anna found herself peeling potatoes while Miss Wilson put the finishing touches on a roast. 

“How has married life treated you so far?” Miss Wilson said. 

“Very good,” Anna said. She tried to put on the look of a happy newlywed, even if her heart wasn’t in it. “Bert’s just wonderful.” 

“Ah yes,” Miss Wilson said. “The honeymoon glow. I remember it well.” She smiled, and peered out the kitchen at her husband. “Even after all these years,” she said. “He’s still the only one for me.” 

Anna felt a small pang in her heart. She’d been so sure about her soon-to-be ex-husband. She finished the last potato and handed the bowl to Miss Wilson. 

“That’s wonderful,” Anna said, hoping her tone belied her broken heart.

“It hasn’t always been easy,” Miss Wilson said, shaking her head as she dropped the potatoes into a pot of boiling water. “Make no mistake. But he’s always been there for me. He has been my rock, and I think I love him now more than I did on our wedding day.” 

Anna felt a quiet awe at the older woman’s candor. “That’s wonderful.”

After a time, Miss Wilson pulled the now-finished potatoes out of the water. “I saw the way that Bert doted on you yesterday,” Miss Wilson said. “He tries to take care of everyone in the neighborhood. And I’m sure he’ll care for you far more.” 

Anna looked down, feeling tears form at the corners of her eyes. She felt awful to deceive Miss Wilson, who seemed so genuinely caring. She realized that when she left, Bert would have to explain why his wife left him so abruptly. 

“Oh my darling!” exclaimed Miss Wilson. “Are you alright?” 

“Oh yes, of course,” Anna said, quickly regaining her composure. “It’s just been a bit overwhelming, so much has happened these past few weeks.” 

Miss Wilson nodded. “I understand.”

“I already feel like such a failure,” Anna said. She looked up older woman, who smiled gently. Miss Wilson went over to her bookshelf in the kitchen and pulled down a well-worn book. “Someone gave this to me when I first got married,” she said. “I didn’t even know how to put the kettle on.” 

Miss Wilson pressed the book into Anna’s hands. “Put this with your things dear.” Anna took the book, too speechless to protest. 

Just then, a voice bellowed from the other room. “Dear, it appears Bert is about to faint from hunger.” 

Another voice quickly protested. “I said nothing of the sort Miss Wilson!” Bert said. 

Miss Wilson turned, and with a glint in her eye shouted back. “Food’s on its way, if only there were some strong men who could assist in bringing it to the table!” 

Anna felt her despair dissipate. Slipping out for a moment, she carefully laid the book out of harm’s way. Bert and Mister Wilson stormed the kitchen, still laughing. 

Bert caught Anna’s eye. Noticing her change in composure, he shot her a questioning look. Anna nodded and smiled, indicating that she was fine. 

“Smells amazing in here!” Bert said. “I can’t wait to eat.” 

“Thank you Bert,” Miss Wilson said. “I had an excellent assistant.” 

Sitting down to the dinner, Anna looked out over the table laden with food and felt a sense of contentment. Bert and Mister Wilson were still talking animatedly, with Miss Wilson interjecting at important junctures. Bill seemed content to stuff his face with food and nod along with the others rather than add to the conversation. 

With the others occupied, Anna was free to sit with her own thoughts. It was a lovely dinner party, so much smaller and simpler than the ones back home. She’d even helped to make the very food they were eating, rather than just supervise the kitchen. 

She felt a great deal of satisfaction as the assembled party devour the food. Absentmindedly, she wondered whether the book that Miss Wilson had given her had any of the recipes that she’d made tonight. She noticed that Bert had taken seconds and thirds of the roast. 

Anna then shook her head. _ Foolish girl_, she thought to herself. _ This isn’t real, and you won’t be making dinner for anyone, anytime soon_. She consoled herself with the thought that her cook might be able to prepare the some of the recipes once she got back home to England. 

Just then, Bert voice and cut through her ruminations. “I’m a lucky man,” he said. “She’s full of surprises.” 

For a moment, Anna thought he might be genuine. Internally, she chided herself again and slid into her character. “Oh Bert,” she said. “You’re not so bad yourself--”

“--I really mean it,” Bert said earnestly. “Just today, I come home from a day of driving and I’m dead tired, only to find that she’s painted the entire front of the house.” 

“It looks lovely,” Miss Wilson said. “I had the opportunity to admire just this afternoon." 

“I’m grateful,” Bert said, his voice sincere. He caught Anna’s eyes. “I really am.” 

Mister Wilson raised his glass. “To the newlyweds," he said. "May their lives be full of pleasant surprises.” 

In that moment, Anna resolved to throw herself into the conversation and enjoy the party. Her despair could wait, she told herself. Just for tonight. 

\---

Bert and Miss Vanderbuilt left the party full of good food and cheer. They shivered against the chill as soon as they left the warmth and entered into the night. The walk next door was a short one, and Bert shut the door behind them. “It’s getting cold out there,” he said. 

“Yes,” Anna said rubbing her arms. 

An awkwardness settled over the pair. 

“I think I’ll make a fire out here,” Bert said. “Going to sit up for a bit.” 

Miss Vanderbuilt nodded. “Do you mind if I join you?” 

Bert nodded, slightly shocked at his guest’s request. “Don’t see why not.” He was grateful for the busywork of building a fire. He went outside and retrieved firewood from behind the house. 

Stepping inside once more, Bert was struck by the contrast between the bright and warm house next door, and his own dreary abode. The dinner had been so successful that he’d managed to forget about the arrangement between himself and Miss Vanderbuilt. 

For her part, his guest had sat down at one of the chairs and opened a book. Bert wiped his hands on his pants, satisfied after the small fire began to burn brightly in the fireplace. 

“Whatcha got there,” Bert asked, taking the other chair and reaching for the newspaper he’d brought in with him earlier that day. 

“A cookbook Miss Wilson gave me,” Anna said. 

Bert frowned, and Anna saw his expression. “I know,” she said. “I don’t like deceiving her either.” 

“Miss,” Bert said, fumbling for his words, “it’s nothing personal, I promise. It’s just--”

“--it’s alright,” Miss Vanderbuilt said. In the firelight, her features looked soft, and her face was open. “I understand. But I’m sure it won’t be long before Miss Fisher figures it out.” 

Bert nodded. He turned to look at the fire, cheerily glowing. The house had begun to warm up. 

“Haven’t had occasion to use this much,” he said. “I usually just sit it out in the cold.” 

He re-folded his newspaper and turned his attention to the page. A silence fell between them. It wasn’t exactly peaceful, Bert thought to himself. He still sensed tension in the woman across the table from him. She flipped through the pages of the cookbook and scooted closer to the fire.

It was more of an armistice, Bert thought to himself. But a nice one nonetheless. 

After the fire had burned for some time, and Bert had added several logs, Miss Vanderbuilt closed the cookbook with a thump. “I think I’m off to bed then.” Bert nodded, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the table. “See you tomorrow,” he said. 

Miss Vanderbuilt disappeared into the back room. Bert smoked and watched the fire until it died down to a few glowing embers. After getting ready for bed, he climbed onto the cot and fell into a sleep far more sound than the night before. 


End file.
